Shades of Gray
by LadyMairead
Summary: Jacen returns home from captivity, wounded, weary, and devestatingly witty, much to the dismay of Jaina. Featuring Dark Side Cookie-Decoraters, illicit smooches, disappearing apprentices, and some really nasty Vong. Update: Ch. 4 added Dec. 15!
1. Chapter 1

She stood in the docking bay, body trembling with anticipation. She had imagined this moment so many times, wished, hoped, prayed and cried for it to come. Now that it was almost here, time refused to oblige her by moving at a normal pace. Instead, time seemed to stretch and expand, so that when she checked her chrono every twenty standard minutes, it inexplicably indicated that only two standard minutes had passed.  
  
She could feel the quality of time change as she waited, could feel the very fabric of the universe stretch tight. Every second registered as an eternity. In each moment, she could taste the flat, stagnant flavor of the seconds as they stood, unmoving. She could reach out and almost touch the clear stillness of time. If only she could reach just a little further, perhaps she could touch the surface, create a ripple, and time would begin to move again.  
  
In this strange place where years seemed to pass without the notice of her chrono, she had time enough to take stock of all her senses, to feel each and every nerve ending as it tingled and trembled. She smelled and tasted the acrid scent of the fuel in the docking bay. She could hear the muffled clanging and curses from the repair bay next door. She could feel the scuffed, cracked duracrete under her bare feet, and, as she curled her toes against the cold, she could feel the grease from the floor that had rubbed off onto the soles of her feet.  
  
She felt the cool night breeze ruffle her sleep-tousled hair, and when she opened her eyes, her vision registered every detail with perfect precision, the edges of objects carved into her mind's eye with razor sharp clarity. As she tilted her face upward and gazed out into the galaxy, she saw planets revolve, and suns rotate, and stars blossom and die, and civilizations rise and fall.  
  
And another second passed.  
  
And she waited.  
  
....................................  
  
Later, when she reflected on those minutes that she stood waiting in the docking bay, she failed to understand how she had stayed sane. She could not comprehend how she had kept a grasp on her mind when, denied the immediate pleasure of the experience she had waited so long for, all it had wanted to do was to leave her body and stay in that moment forever, exploring that gray limbo in which time had no meaning.  
  
Yet even when her whole soul yearned for the minutes to slip away and for the moment to arrive, a part of her had wanted to release her mind, and to follow it into the void, so that she could stay in that place forever. To stay, content with the knowledge that he was safe and would soon be home. To stay, and not have to face his pain, his possible disappointment. To not have to face him as he was now, most certainly changed.  
  
All of these thoughts and more filled the minutes as she waited, but not so fully as to fill the empty place that had so long been a part of her. It was an acute emptiness, and as much as she had tried to evade it, she had been unable to prevent her mind from exploring at least the most surface aspects of it.  
  
Sometimes, it was a thick, gray mist, a foul-smelling fog, in which she felt she would disappear if she wandered without caution. Other times, it was a burning ball of something hotter than flames, a supernova that had exploded inside her and threatened to consume her. But most times, it was a cold, hard block of ice that chilled her from the very core. She tried desperately to chip away at it, and sometimes suceeded, but day by day it grew colder and the ice spread, slowly but unmercifully, engulfing more and more of her.  
  
Yet now, as the minutes passed and the moment approached, the mist seemed to clear, the burning lessened, and the ice began to melt as the hands on her chrono continued to tick.  
  
And she waited.  
  
.....................................  
  
Even as she stood, gazing out into the eternal night of space, filled to the brim with sensation, she felt a tickling at the back of her mind and the swirling unreality of her thoughts receded slightly as she realized that she was not alone.  
  
She could feel him standing hesitantly near the docking bay, cursing his own indecision and cursing the emotions that clouded his thoughts. As she slowly turned to face him, she felt the glow of his love for her warm the ice in her heart, and a bit more melted away.  
  
In her heightened state of emotions, she felt tears of gratitude rush to her eyes as she sensed his overwhelming concern for her. She watched as his eyes were drawn slowly but unerringly to hers. As their gazes met, both of their doubts were pushed aside.  
  
Our friendship has kept me sane, she realized. When her life was spiraling out of control, when everything that she had once believed unbreakable had been scattered in all directions, he was the one constant. She could always see the path ahead with him. Sometimes it would twist and turn and she could not see where it ended, but with him there was always solid ground on which to place her feet.  
  
The one element in my life about which I have never had any doubts is his loyalty.  
  
As he walked toward her and she reached out her arms and wrapped them around his waist, her senses were filled with him. And it was infinitely more pleasurable than being in that moment alone. The stillness of time was now both a blessing and a curse, and she reveled in the paradox.  
  
"Don't worry," he said, as he kissed her forehead.  
  
They both turned once more to gaze up at the stars.  
  
And minutes passed.  
  
And they waited.  
  
......... 


	2. Chapter 2

In another part of the galaxy, time had also changed its pace.  
  
A ship emerged from hyperspace at an indistinct point somewhere between the center of one galaxy and the edge of another, changed course, and reentered hyperspace. A man sat in meditation, parting the curtains of reality as he moved between planes of understanding. Time also seemed changed to this man. But he was accustomed to the capriciousness of time, and rather than dwell upon it, he ignored its passage.  
  
What is truth?  
  
The truth, he had come to understand, was something that we chose to believe. The only real truth was that there is no truth, because even that was a lie. He had also come to understand that right and wrong did not exist, while at the same time they did. In a grand cosmic sense, the ideas of right and wrong were simply constructs which we used to justify our actions and make our decisions.  
  
His thoughts always returned to the classic question that was posed to schoolchildren of every species:  
  
A man's wife is very ill with a disease that bacta cannot cure. In fact, there is only one remedy in the whole galaxy, and it is relatively inexpensive to manufacture. But it is being sold at an exhorbiant price for the manufacturer's profit. Was it wrong for the man to break into the med station, destroy the guard droid, and steal the medication?  
  
As a child, he had said that stealing was wrong and so was the man. As a teenager, he had said that saving the man's wife was more important the the law, so the man was right. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he had never felt comfortable with those answers. Such distinctions of right and wrong had never completely satisfied him. And now, no longer a child and infinitely the wiser with the knowledge of how little he really understood, he had discovered the answer to the question.  
  
What the man had done was neither right nor wrong; it contained elements of both, but it was impossible, and pointless, to attempt to weigh them and discover whether the action was more of one or the other. Right and wrong were irrelevant in that situation: the point was that the man had chosen a course of action that produced a particular result. The judgement of the morality of his actions was extraneous.  
  
But at the same time, he believed that right and wrong did still exist and could still be important, vital even. For instance, he believed that it was wrong to steal something simply out of desire. But where, he wondered, does that line of distinction lie, between the black and white of right and wrong and the gray where it didn't matter? Had it been right or wrong of him to refuse to fight, to refuse to use the Force for agression? Maybe, like the man in the story, his actions had been neither. But why?  
  
Yet even as he asked himself these questions, and marveled at his new understanding, he had an inkling that perhaps the answers weren't so easy as this. That perhaps the truth couldn't be gleaned from something so simple as a child's tale of morality. He felt that he was missing something, passing by it, catching a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but unable to focus on it clearly. What it was, though, he had no idea. But perhaps his knowledge that he did not fully understand the answers to these questions was as important as the answers themselves.  
  
The truth is always greater than the words we use to describe it. He heard a whisper float through his mind.  
  
"Deep thoughts, young Solo." A voice cut through his thoughts, and the threads of truth and untruth that he had begun to weave into something resembling understanding unraveled and slipped away.  
  
"When the teacher mocks," he answered slowly, as his eyes slid open, "it becomes difficult for the student to learn."  
  
"Mock? I do not mock, I only observe."  
  
He took a deep breath, " Right. If you say so." He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "How long until we arrive?"  
  
"Several hours. Bored?" she asked.  
  
"With a teacher like you, how could I be?" he countered, "I always have to fear for my life."  
  
She said nothing, but the feathers on her head rippled and faded into a deep orange, and he had the distinct impression that she was fighting amusement. She turned and walked out of the chambers, and he returned once again to his thoughts. He searched for that elusive line between right and wrong and neither, and wondered whether it even existed, as their ship hurtled through hyperspace. 


	3. Chapter 3

She was so absorbed in scouring the sky for any sign of movement, looking for any blur that would resolve itself into a ship, that she was startled by the sound of running footsteps as they approached her. She and Jag spun around, his attention, too, had apparently been focused upward, to see four, no, five people hurrying towards them.  
  
"Jaina," said her mother in a choked voice. "He's coming home," as tears began to run down her face.  
  
Even her father, the legendary space pirated who had cheated death innumerable times and had lived ten lives' worth of adventures, looked, at that moment, like nothing more than a father, tense but overjoyed at the thought of seeing the son who had been lost for so long.  
  
She could see all of those ten lives on both her parents' faces, standing out in sharp relief from their wearied skin. Every wrinkle, every crease, every line of worry seemed to be outlined in gray, as if they had been painted there over the picture of her parents' faces that she was accustomed to seeing. But perhaps that image was wishful thinking. Because while Han and Leia were not yet old, their years showed in the lines on their tired visages, like a map of the hardships they had faced.  
  
Her train of thought was broken by her Aunt Mara, who, as she walked over to Jaina with Ben in her arms, said tensely, "Jaina. We just got the message. When will he be here?"  
  
Slowly, as if being sucked downward through a spiraling drain, Jaina was pulled out of the dreamy fog of thoughts that had so consumed her mind since she had awoken earlier that night to an urgent comm.  
  
Jacen was coming home.  
  
She hadn't truly believed it until this moment, when she saw that there were others who shared her joy. Certainly, Jag had been here with her, but if she were having a delusion, she was quite sure that he would be in it, so his prescence alone could not be trusted.  
  
But when she saw her family rushing towards her, and could feel, hear them, and sense their prescence answering hers in the Force, she realized that the moment was real. All of her joy, finally released from doubt, swelled inside her and touched and merged with the joy of everyone present, and it grew and shone until it seemed that the Force itself was singing.  
  
"Five minutes," she said quietly, smiling. "He should be in sight in five minutes."  
  
"Jag, why are you here?" asked her Uncle Luke. "I don't mean to imply that you need to leave, it just seemed curious."  
  
From the moment that the others had made their prescence known, the love and concern that had enveloped Jaina had faded somewhat, to be replaced by the cool professionalism that so characterized Jag's public façade. Jaina shivered involuntarily as she felt its loss, and was rewarded when that part of Jag that belonged only to her sparked to touch her again, as he cast a worried glance her way before turning to Luke.  
  
"General Antilles contacted me immediately after he spoke with Jaina. He was uncertain as to how long it would take to locate the proper security codes to access yourself and the Solos. He requested that I insure that Jaina was not in need of any help." He paused, hesitantly, "If you wish, I can return to my quarters."  
  
Jaina didn't speak, couldn't speak, but reached out to touch Jag's wrist. Mara caught the gesture, and looked, startled, at Jaina. She answered slowly, "No, that's alright Jag. Please stay."  
  
She opened her mouth once again to say something to Jaina, but was interrupted by the sound of Leia sucking in a breath.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------  
  
From the depth of black, a round, rocky shape emerged and rapidly approached the docking bay. It took Jaina several seconds to overcome her natural instinct to run to her fighter and blast the ship out of the sky. From the twitch she saw in the corner of her vision, she suspected that Jag felt the same way. Curiously, though she could feel Jacen's presence aboard the ship, it was muted and staticky, as if she couldn't quite tune into the right holocomm station.  
  
Jaina stepped sideways to grasp her mother's hand, who squeezed hers firmly and looked up at Jaina. In Leia's teary smile, she could see all of her hopes and fears reflected.  
  
The oddly-shaped ship, like a coralskipper, but elongated and somehow less threatening, bumped gently down upon the deck. It was an anti-climatic landing; Jaina felt that she deserved some sort of dramatic acknowledgement from the universe at the very moment that her beloved brother returned from the dead.  
  
As the ship's ramp, mossy and organic-looking, began to slowly unroll itself, Jaina began to vaguely wonder why no one else seemed concerned at the groundshake they were suddenly experiencing. It wasn't until Jag gently grabbed her arm that she realized how much she had been trembling.  
  
It seemed to her that her whole life had been leading up to this moment. For the past few years, it had felt as if she were constantly climbing up a steep hill, fighting the underbrush and clawing her was past thorns and brambles that reached out to claw at her at every turn. But the minute that he walked down that ramp and into her arms, she would finally have reached the summit.  
  
The end of the fuzzy green ramp touched the duracrete floor of the docking bay and made a sucking noise as it secured itself to the ground. Jaina felt her body and mind begin to buzz as she heard footsteps approach the docking ramp from inside the ship. When, from somewhere in the cavernous mouth of the craft, she felt the faint edges of an answering buzz begin to tickle her senses through the Force, she could not hold herself back any longer. Releasing Leia's hand and pulling herself out of Jag's grasp, she sprinted headlong up the docking ramp and crashed into the waiting arms of her brother.  
  
Jaina desperately sucked in breath as she buried her face in his shoulder and clutched handfuls of the back of his tunic. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, and he hugged he so forcefully that she was lifted off the floor. She wanted terribly to look at him, to see the face so like her own, to look into the brandy-brown eyes that had so often shared amused, mischievous, or frightened glances with. She wanted nothing more than to reach up and trace her fingers over the face that she had seen wear such myriad expressions over the years. But she was terrified to let go. Terrified that if she released her grip only a millimeter, she would fall back down the hill, pulled by the inexorable tug of reality.  
  
But after a minute, or two, or ten, she felt Jacen's grip relax, and she gathered her courage and stepped back.  
  
And stepped back again in amazement at what she saw.  
  
----------------------------- 


	4. Chapter 4

Jaina stood and held him at arm's length, keeping a tight grip on his calloused hands. She began at the bottom, gazing at the cracked toenails and the dirty feet covered in newly-healed sores that had puckered to an angry reddish-pink. Her eyes continued upward, past his ankles, where the ends of his pants hung awkwardly, one leg longer than the other.  
  
Past the frayed knees, where the brown fabric had been worn to a tired gray, to the waist of brown, mossy pants that were rolled up and knotted at the waist, obviously not tailored for a human's physique. She looked up, her gaze falling on their linked hands, and when she turned them over, so that his palms were facing downward, she saw a criss-crossing map of raised scars that she had no memory of him ever aquiring.  
  
She looked up, past the too-long sleeves of the tunic, made of the same living material as the pants, to the collar, which, in the middle, hung far enough past his prominent collarbone to reveal the frightening beginning of a wide scar that looked as if it had not fully mended. Past his neck, to the scraggly, uneven blondish-brown hair on his face that appeared to have been hacked at with a knife, up to the much darker brown of the hair that hung lank, swept back from his face to curl just below the level of his ears, and looked to have been cut in the same manner as his beard.  
  
She stopped there for a moment, mesmerized by his forehead, where the lines that she had previously seen appear only in moments of darkest worry, had been engraved permanently into the landscape of his face. The familiar scar under his eye was still evident, but looked like a mere scratch in light of the other marks that she had discovered on his body. Finally, she drew her gaze to the one place she had been avoiding: his eyes.  
  
As she stared into their depths, she was forced to remind herself that she was looking at her twin brother, whose every dark corner, every dusty alcove of memory, every buried feeling, had been as familiar as her own. She felt slightly naseous with the realization that those days were over. Because in his eyes, she saw the first small hint of what it was that had changed him so. And that clue, that tiny glimpse of his experience, hit her like a punch in the stomach, and for half a second she couldn't catch her breath.  
  
Staring into his eyes, she had the impression that if she were to fall into them, she would be sucked into a swirling whirlpool that would assault all of her senses and from which escape would be doubtful. She had the impression, the fear, that she would experience things that her mind, with all it had seen, could not even begin to envision. She had the feeling that if she fell within those eyes and then turned and looked back out them, she would see a very different universe, a differnt reality, than the one she currently existed in.  
  
"Jasa?" she breathed hesitantly.  
  
"Jaya," he said, grinning widely.  
  
And as tears gathered on his lashes and fell, the depth of his eyes seemed to be suddenly hidden from her, and she wondered if she had imagined its existence. Perhaps it had been a trick of the light. As the deep brown color of his irises lightened, and he gathered her in his arms once more, she swept her fears aside.  
  
She held him firmly, enjoying the familiar forest smell, like dried leaves or a crackling fire, that always seemed to accompany Jacen. She giggled as the scratchy growth on his cheeks rubbed against her face, still damp with tears. They both stepped back slowly, reluctantly, and, eyes shining with delight, walked arm in arm down the squishy docking ramp to meet their parents.  
  
----------  
  
-------------------------------  
  
Leia met them first, and could only say, in a choked whisper, "Oh, my darling," before she threw her arms around his waist. Jacen could not have imagined how good, how right, it felt to finally feels his mother's arms around him, as if the universe had for some time been careening forward wildly off-kilter and now had settled itself back into place. He felt reduced to the age of a small child, who, having just woken up terrified and lost from some horrific nightmare, could only find comfort in his mother's reassuring whispers from the depths of her embrace.  
  
His father, who had been standing behind Jacen, gripping his shoulder while he hugged his mother, pulled Jacen around and looked him in the eyes with a searching gaze. All humor, all mischief, all pretense had disappeared completely from Han's face, leaving only the image of a tense father, who quickly tugged Jacen into his arms.  
  
Jacen nestled his face in his father's shoulder and closed his eyes, basking in the warmth of his embrace and soaking up the love he could feel emating from Han, as he kissed Jacen's hair as he had done so often when Jacen had been young. When his parents finally released him, and after he had taken a last, long look to reassure himself that they were real, he turned to his aunt and uncle.  
  
Both of them pulled him into long hugs, and he could see tears even on Mara's face as she said, "Jacen. We're so glad you're home." The red, tearing pain that had been his constant companion ceased to throb, and he could feel it begin to heal, deep inside of him. Yet as Mara gave him Ben to hold in his arms, and he saw a small gleam of intelligence in the boy's eyes that had not been present the last time he had seen Ben, he felt the knife edge of regret stab his gut as he realized how much he had missed during his absence. His sister, too, had changed. She seemed more at peace, somehow, though he had not yet had the time to examine this transformation.  
  
Later, he thought to himself, determined to enjoy this moment without reservation.  
  
But the soaring feeling as he stood with his family was negligible compared to the experience of reuniting with his sister.  
  
What most people failed to realize about Jacen and Jaina was that they were not simply twins. They were two halves of one soul, of one being, connected by birth and through the Force. And they were infinitely more alive when they were together. They needn't be in the same room, or even on the same planet, as long as they could reach out and touch each other through the Force. The sensation of feeling those two haves touch each other hesitantly and then slowly begin to knit together again was one of the most profound experiences of Jacen's life.  
  
Certainly, the twins could live apart and function without one another and without their Force bond; they had proven that over the last year. But it was a half-life, a bruised life, when their soul was ripped in two as it had been. To regain his full spectrum of sensations was a feeling that was indescribable. It was like everything had been flat, two dimensional, painted hastily and blurrily, with washed-out gray colors, as if his life had been left too long to bake in the sun, and the heat had sucked all the pigmet out. When he had crashed into Jaina on the landing ramp, the landscape around him seemed suddenly to burst into three vibrant dimensions, dancing with colors so blazingly alive, it would have seemed a desecration of their beauty to attempt to fence them in with something so mundane as a name.  
  
Again, he turned to grin at his sister, but he suddenly realized that all the smiles had abruptly disappeared from him family's faces. It was frightening experience, to see the eyes, that had only a moment before been glowing with warmth, cool and harden, and to see the previously smiling faces reform into masks of piercing hatred.  
  
He stumbled backward, horrified to discover that his glorious reunion had not been real, but only another nightmare in a long series of terrifying visions in which his family's love and joy at his return had without any warning mutated into disgust and hatred.  
  
"No young Solo. They are simply ... dismayed by my appearance," came a voice from behind him.  
  
He had only enough time to feel the very beginnings of the tidal wave of relief that swept over him, before reality slammed into his brain. Vergere. Oh, Vegere... How could he have forgotten to tell them? How could he have neglected to warn them that he was not alone, that his companion should not be harmed, that they should not yet question him?  
  
He looked back at his family to see a chilling scene. In Han's grip was a blaster that Jacen was certain had not been there a second before, though Jacen had no memory of Han's hand moving. He harbored no illusions that the blaster was set to stun. One of the beings who had been present at the death of Han's youngest son, and who had been apparently aiding those who had slain Anakin was before him, standing directly in the path of his blaster, unprotected. Vengance burned bright in Han's eyes.  
  
Mara cut a figure that was no less frightening. She was standing with her left foot slightly ahead of the right, hip forward, lightsaber in her left hand, buzzing menacingly. Classic fighting stance. Two, maybe three long steps, and Mara could cut Vergere in half. The small alien had changed allegiances one too many times for Mara to forgive. Jacen saw her muscles tense for action, and Luke made no move to stop her. He, in fact, was fingering his lightsaber with his left hand, even as he held Ben in his other arm.  
  
Jag and Jaina both had their blasters drawn, but their eyes were clear, though no less ready for a fight. Both of them stood taut, but still, evaluating the situation.  
  
Leia was standing unarmed, but with a calculating look that Jacen considered no less deadly than the most dangerous weapon his aunt could produce.  
  
Jacen quickly stepped forward, directly in front of Vergere, held his hands out wide, and said in a firm voice, "No. She is with me." When no one lowered their weapons, Jacen called on the Force for aid.  
  
Suddenly, an aura of immense power surrounded Jacen, almost blazing in its intensity, creating a ring of protection that extended to envelope Vergere. The four Force-sensitives faltered, looking in wonder and disbelief at this demon that burned with blinding incandescence in the Force, though its body looked identical to Jacen Solo. Even Han blinked in confusion, and a hint of fear danced in his gut. As they lowered their weapons, the column of Force-flames that had surrounded Jacen and Vergere wavered and then dissapated. Everyone stood unmoving, astonished by what they had just witnessed.  
  
Vegered looked at Jacen, apparently ignoring the fact that she had only moments before been in mortal danger. "I will expect you back in one week."  
  
Jacen nodded at her apologetically. "One week, I promise."  
  
Leia was the first to recover the use of her voice. "Jacen, what's going on?" she asked, the shrewd look back in her eyes.  
  
"Just give me a week," he said, rubbing his face exhaustedly. "Leave the ship, don't disturb Vergere, and give me one week with no questions."  
  
Luke narrowed his eyes in mistrust, and Jacen saw Han and Mara exchange glances, as if preparing to jump into action. Jag and Jaina shared a confused look, and Jaina spoke hesitantly, "Jacen, what-"  
  
But Leia stepped forward and held up a hand to silence them all. "Of course, Jacen. One week." She walked towards him, and linked her arm with his. "Let's go home."  
  
----------------------------------- 


	5. Chapter 5

Jaina walked quickly down the deserted hallway, her bare feet slapping the cold floor, as she rubbed a towel vigorously through her damp hair. Her lightsaber hung at her waist, swinging back and forth with the rhythm of her steps. Jaina mentally itemized the things she needed to accomplish that day:  
  
One, Clean my lightsaber, which was looking really grimy during practice,  
  
Two, I need to have measurements taken for a new flightsuit. This one is about to fall apart.  
  
Three, Find Jag.  
  
Four, Send a message to Kyp about Jacen coming home. That ought to be an interesting show...  
  
Five, Kiss Jag.  
  
Six, I think Mom wanted me to pick up some wine for dinner tonight. I wonder what kind...  
  
Seven, Kiss Jag again.  
  
Jaina's mouth tugged upward into a satisfied smile as she continued down the corridor, quite satisfied that she would be able to accomplish all of the items on her list.  
  
But suddenly, in mid-step, she faltered, stopped walking and turned in a slow circle, trying to identify the source of the tickling that she had just felt in the Force, as if someone was following her. But the hallway was still deserted. She frowned, but didn't waste the energy of a perfoming a full scan of the area. It was probably just Jacen nearby; she still wasn't used to having him home.  
  
Lifting the towel to her head again, she walked backwards for a few steps, watching to be certain that no one appeared in the hallway to trail her. Seeing nothing, she started to turn around to continue walking, but instead watched as the towel flew out of her hands and the walls tilted as she tripped over a foot that had appeared out of a seemingly innocuous conference room.  
  
She had time to emit a small, undignified squeak before she landed hard, splayed out across the hallway. Looking up, she followed the foot to where it attatched to a leg and a body, to see a shock of black hair atop a head that was shaking with laughter and emerald eyes that were shining with mirth.  
  
"I thought you Jedi had that whole constant vigilance thing going on?"  
  
Even as she glared wrathfully, her traitorous mind could not help but wonder at the jeweled perfection of those green eyes.  
  
"This is not a good way to get me to like you."  
  
"Fortunately, I'm not worried about that," said Jagged Fel, standing with his hands on his hips, grinning smugly down at her. "You already like me."  
  
Jaina's voice turned deadly serious, "There are those who say it is not wise to anger a Jedi."  
  
"Really," he said, rubbing his chin in mock thoughfullness, "because I've never heard anyone say that."  
  
Suddenly, Jag found himself being propelled through the door of the conference room to hit hard against the opposite wall. He landed with his palms flat against the wall, arms extended straight down, feet shoulder width apart. He found that he was unable to move from this pose, as if some kind of superglue was holding him fast against the wall.  
  
He looked up to see that Jaina had lifted herself off the floor and walked into the dimly lit conference room. As she turned around to close the door, cutting the room off from the hallway, she spoke in a conversational tone. "There's a reason you've never heard anyone say that."  
  
She walked slowly over to where Jag was pinned against the wall, looking at him from under heavy lids. In the low light, it seemed to Jag that Jaina was floating towards him. His eyes glittered as he followed her movement.  
  
When she reached him, she raised her hands and placed them on either side of his head and slowly leaned forward to kiss him. Jag closed his eyes as he felt her breath on his lips. But at the last moment, Jaina tilted her head smoothly to the left and tipped her mouth up towards his ear, to tell him, in a sultry whisper, "Because those who anger Jedi do not live to tell the tale."  
  
He suddenly felt the invisible bonds release his body and he grabbed Jaina around the waist and kissed her fiercely. As she wove her fingers through his thick hair, she though smugly, That's three things I can cross off my list.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Jacen lay on his back, hands linked behind his head, staring at the gray ceiling. His pillow and blankets lay forgotten on the floor next to his bed. While at first, the presence of a mattress, synthfeather pillow, and woven sheets seemed a luxury akin to floating blissfully on the clouds, Jacen had become accustomed to sleeping on a hard ground, and the unfamiliar softness made his uncomfortable. So he lay simply on the lumpy, standard-issue military mattress, staring at the ceiling, and, as he was wont to do, thinking.  
  
He thought first of his parents, his aunt and uncle, and little Ben. It seemed that every time his heart beat, a pulse of happines shot through him with the thought that he was home. The fact that he was able to see each of them every day was a pleasure unlike any he had experiened. He then thought of his sister. She had most certainly changed in his absence, but, unexpectedly, for the better. He had been worried, terrified really, that he would return to find only a shell of the twin he used to know, gutted by Anakin's death. Yet something had saved her from that fate. Her presence in the Force was one of muted joy, that flared into a full symphony when Jagged Fel was around.  
  
Jagged Fel.  
  
Jacen knew the man by reputation only, and from what he had heard, Fel was a superior pilot and an excellent commander, if somewhat remote in person. Jacen didn't know any more about him, but he didn't care. He made Jaina unaccountably happy, and that was all that mattered. He also had a deep respect for any man that could handle his sister. His thoughts drifted away from his family, and to the Force.  
  
He allowed his lids to sink halfway down over his eyes, and the images and distractions of the day float upwards, higher and higher, until they were lost to his inner eye, and his mind was left blessedly clear, a deep, empty void, like the black vaccuum of space, but vacant, even, of any such thing as "black". His spirit, his soul, the small piece of the Force that he produced, whatever it was that was the essense of his being, labels were irrelevant, expanded and swelled.  
  
It grew outward, from the middle, until Jacen's body could no longer contain it, and it burst free of earthly ties. It floated upward, a wave of pure energy, out of the barracks, up through the atmosphere of the planet, out of that system, out of that galaxy, to a place he had often visited in the past year. A place that was both outside the universe and an integral part of it. Many images, words, emotions, and thoughts passed through Jacen when he was in this place, yet vision, hearing, and feeling were not the right words, they were insufficient to describe the experience.  
  
He was sucked into the whirling, churning, endless circle of time. Images flashed passed him, images from the past, present, and future, images that had happened, would happen, might happen, never happened. He rushed past the beginning of time and its end, which were indistinguishable, because time was an ever-moving ring, every part identical yet every part unique. The metered, strict, inflexible divisions of minutes, hours, days, and years that were usually used to describe time had no meaning in this place, because to the universe, time was not something that could be studied, named, categorized, processed, and packaged. Time was existence, and existence time, both inseperable parts of the gleaming light that was life.  
  
Jacen was pulled out of the spinning ring toward its center, to the glowing, pulsing light that shone with all colors. He was absorbed by the joyous light, merged and became part of it. He was no longer Jacen, no longer a distinguishable, seperate entity, for he had become part of the burning light. And yet he was more himself than he had ever been.  
  
Questions had long disappeard, he simply was. And the light shone brighter.  
  
---------------------------------  
  
Leia looked around the table in complete satisfaction. For the third time in the last four days, her family was together at the table for an evening meal. Although their number could never again be complete in this lifetime, this knowledge did not temper the joy that Leia felt.  
  
She watched as her husband regaled Jacen with an off-color tale of an experience at one of the many shady establishments he had frequented in his younger days. Mara's eyes were alight with excitement as she described to Jaina the newest features on an exotic and deadly weapon she had recently added to her ever-growing collection. Luke was using the Force to spin the colored drinking glasses in front of the candles on the table, so that a rainbow of lights played over Ben's face as he laughed and reached out to try to grasp the beams of color.  
  
Leia's smile broaded as she passed around a dish of kraal's meat that she had instructed the chef droid to specially prepare for Han. As she turned to speak to Mara, however, she caught a look of deep-seated apprehension on Jacen's face.  
  
"Is there something wrong?" she questioned him worriedly.  
  
"What," he asked, pointed to the pan of shellfish that Han had begun to heap liberally on his plate, "is that?"  
  
"Bouillabaisse," said Leia.  
  
"Bless you," said Jacen.  
  
She shot him a stern look. "It's Alderaanian," she said, and then imploringly, "I made it myself."  
  
She watched as Luke blanched, Jaina's fork froze halfway to her mouth, Mara choked, and Han's hand changed course in midair to direct the serving spoon back away from his plate. Even little Ben seemed to whimper in fear.  
  
Leia grinned mischeviously. "Just kidding."  
  
All present seemed to suck in a relieved breath, as if they had just escaped death by a milimeter.  
  
"Leia honey, you're gonna give me gray hairs if you keep doin' that. I don't want people to think I'm gettin' old!" Han said plaintively.  
  
"Really Mom, my life flashed before my eyes," agreed Jacen.  
  
"That must have been pretty dull," smirked Jaina. As Jacen stuck his tounge out imperiously at Jaina, Leia shot them a repressive look.  
  
She turned to Han. "Well I almost made it. I mean, I had to give the chef droid special instructions and everything," said Leia smugly.  
  
"That's my girl!" Han grinned rougishly as he gave her a loud kiss on the cheek.  
  
Later that evening, when the apartment was quiet, Leia felt a whisper of her maternal instincts return to her as she programmed the food synthesizer for breakfast, instructed the service droid to tidy the kitchen, and gave the housekeeping droid Han's socks to darn.  
  
When she checked her comm messages, and a voice began screaming at her in an alien tounge about the unjust misallotment of funds and supplies in refugee camps, Leia smiled contentedly.  
  
Ah, yes. Home sweet home.  
  
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I stole a quote from Harry Potter, as I'm sure someone noticed. And by the way, this story is much, much farther along at theforce.net. If anyone wants to read it there, just go to theforce.net main page, go to the sidebar and click on Discussion Forums, then Fan Activities, then Fanfiction stories, and I'm in there somewhere! My fic is usually on the first eight pages or so.. And thanks to whomever is reading! 


	6. Chapter 6

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".salvaged three E-wings that we might be able to coax into fighting condition," concluded Gavin Darklighter, finishing his materials inventory. Jacen was only half-listening to the voices that faded in and out of the conference room. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms and Iella Weissiri-Antilles began her intelligence report.  
  
"Several agents have reported suspicious activity on Corellia. At the moment, we're unable to determine whether its simply Peace Brigade recruitment or evidence of Yuzhaan Vong infiltration. The Vong have tended to avoid the Corellian sector, so we're not concered about an advance in that direction just yet, but I have dispatched more people to check it out." She paused and shuffled through her notes. "I think everyone remembers the incident on Tatooine that we were worried might be an indication of a Yuzhaan Vong presence. Well, that fortunately turned out to be only a scuffle between local spice lords, but we are."  
  
Jacen allowed Iella's voice to fade out again, as he eyed the others present in the conference room. Most of the Insiders were here today, he had been told, and he was surprised to see that almost everyone's face was familiar, although he supposed he shouldn't be. It was like the Rebellion all over again, and for some reason that was a very comforting idea.  
  
His mother, who had arrived late, took a seat in the second row of chairs around the conference table, and immediately leaned forward to smack his father in the back of the head for having his feet up on the table. Han pitched forward in his seat, startled, and turned around with a very wounded look, to see Leia glaring at him pointedly. He scowled and turned back around to listen to Iella. His feet, however, were now on the floor.  
  
Leia leaned sideways to speak in an undertone to Mara, who grinned. Jacen caught a whisper through the Force that sounded something like obedient husbands. From the glare that his Uncle Luke was suddenly directing at them from across the table, he suspected that he had heard correctly.  
  
Corran Horn was sitting next to Wedge, who was at the head of the table, and looked like he was having a hard time keeping awake. After a minute, his chin drooped down to his chest and his lids closed, until he was suddenly jolted awake, eyes wide. Jacen imagined that this might have something to do with the fact that the hands of his wife, Mirax, who was sitting on his other side, had momentarily disappeared under the table. Corran rubbed his arm and pulled it away from the reach of his wife, before turning back towards Iella with a disgruntled look on his face. Jacen could see his mother and Mara grinning at Mirax from across the room.  
  
So far, Jacen's first meeting of the Insiders had been relatively uneventful, giving him time to take stock of this new rebellion. Frankly, he though it was long overdue. The fight against the Yuzhaan Vong had smashed the New Republic into useless shards of the proud structure it had once been. The strain of trying to hold together the fractious splinters of what was left of the New Republic while at the same time attempting to construct some kind of coherent war machine had taken a heavy toll on the military and on those dedicated to fighting the invasion, and the price had been paid with the loss of system after system, and life after life.  
  
At long last, the leaders of the war seemed to have found their focus in the Rebellion. By sweeping aside the splinters of the cumbersome government, they were able to pour all of their energy and resources into what was most vital: fighting the invaders. With this new mentality, Jacen hoped they would finally be able to begin the long transition from defending and retreating to aggressive attack. For the first time that he could remember since the war began, he felt the faint stirrings of pride as he looked around the room and saw the sober determination engraved on the faces of everyone present. It was with a deep sense of satisfaction that he realized that the people in this room were his family, and he would be content to fight next to any one of them.  
  
Jacen's thoughts were broken by the sound of Wedge clearing his throat. He sat forward again as Wedge began to speak.  
  
"We're trying to put together some battle plans for possible reclamation of occupied systems, but so far we're not having much luck." He looked up and grinned ruefully, "If anyone has any brilliant ideas, now would be the time."  
  
In the back of the room, Wes Janson's hand shot up. Wedge glared at him in exasperation, "Preferably not any involving Ewoks as X-wing pilots." Janson, looking crushed, lowered his hand slowly. Wedge rolled his eyes and turned to Corran, saying nothing, simply staring at him expectantly. After a visible hesitation, Corran nodded.  
  
Wedge turned back to the rest of the room and began cautiously, "Luke, we've hit upon an idea. Someone in intelligence came up with it and brought it to Iella's attention. I discussed it with Corran because it seemed to be his area of expertise. It involves the Jedi. The thing is. well, I'm not sure you'll like it Luke." Everyone seemed to collectively lean forward, so as not to miss a word. From the look on Wedge's face, it was clear that this proposal held some kind of crucial importance. The atmosphere in the room buzzed with expectation and excitement, although no one spoke. Luke, by now, was sitting forward, forearms resting on the table. He said simply, "Tell me."  
  
Wedge nodded. "Our intelligence agents have always had a near impossible time spotting Yuzhaan Vong infiltrators. Between the ooglith masquers and the limits of our own existing technology to detect and combat them, the intelligence department has been helpless. This has crippled us in a huge way, because without the ability to tell Vong infiltrators apart from the normal crowd of suspicious citizens, we can't predict an attack on a planet. And frankly, this is becoming the most dangerous assignment I've ever seen. We're losing agents like we used to during the Rebellion, but this time they're not even in enemy territory." He paused, and rubbed his hand across his forehead in momentary frustration at the recurring, unanticipated failures during the war; intelligence was simply the first in a long list.  
  
Luke took this opportunity to speak. "I'm not sure I see how this involves the Jedi, Wedge," he questioned, his forehead knotted in consideration. But Jacen had already guessed what Wedge was going to propose, and he could feel a thrill of excitement beginning to spark through his veins, making his nerve endings tingle. It was so perfect, yet so obvious, he couldn't believe no one had thought of it before.  
  
Leia and Mara had also apparently realized Wedge's intentions. Their shoulders were hunched and their heads bent towards each other as they whispered furiously. Jacen could see the same enthusiasm he felt alight in Leia's eyes, but Mara was shaking her head adamantly.  
  
Wedge continued, watching Luke closely, "Well, the basic problem is that intelligence agents can't detect the Vong, and when they do, its very difficult to detain or even fight them. The Jedi, on the other hand, can do both." Wedge stopped as he saw comprehension leaking into Luke's face.  
  
He looked at Iella, who, at his cue, sat forward and continued even more slowly, "What we would propose, is that the Jedi work as undercover intelligence agents. They could detect the Yuzhaan Vong agent's presence, or rather, lack of presence, if I've understood you correctly. And then they could," at this point she hesitated," take care of the infiltrator. Quietly and without fuss, so that one of our own intelligence agents, disguised as the spy, could attempt to communicate with the one of the Vong commanders to gather whatever information we can. Personally, from a purely strategic standpoint, I think the combination of Jedi and intelligence could be invaluable in this war."  
  
She nodded at Wedge that she was done, and he spoke again. "That's the general plan, anyway. But at the moment, it's just a proposal. The outcome is really dependant on what you think Luke." Wedge finished speaking, and sat back, not taking his eyes off Luke, who was rubbing his chin, looking troubled.  
  
In Luke's silence, Corran spoke. "I hesistated with suggesting it at all, but I thought we should all dicuss it. Apart from any Force issues, it's a solid idea." He looked almost apologetically at Luke, who, although he had glanced up when Corran spoke, did not answer, still lost in thought.  
  
The tension in the room grew until the air fairly crackled with the electricity of expectation. Although few details had been explained, Wedge's voice, tight with barely restrained excitement, had been enough. Everyone seemed fully aware of what a critical turning point this operation could be. All attention was focused on Luke.  
  
To everyone's surprise, Han was the first to break the silence. He sat forward slowly and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'll be honest. I like the idea, but then it's not up to me. The only problem I see is that, sorry kid, but Jedi aren't exactly known for being inconspicuous. It'd be a real shame if they were spotted before they could do any good."  
  
Wedge nodded in assurance at Han, having apparently already anticipated the issue. "The Jedi would be put through an intense, if brief, training program prior to being sent into the field. They will also be working closely with trained intelligence operatives who will carefully supervise them. I think we'll be able to select the Jedi who display an aptitude for this kind of work, so we can employ their abilities to the fullest extent."  
  
Just as Wedge finished, Mara spoke, apparently unable to restrain herself any longer. "I don't like it," she said bluntly. "It's dangerous to use the Force like this. You're asking the Jedi to seek something out for the specific purpose of killing it. It reeks of the Dark Side."  
  
She glanced at Luke and nodded, and he sat forward to continue. "I understand the need for it, and I certainly don't blame you for bringing it up, but I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this plan. It seems to me that we would be skirting the edge too closely." He shook his head contritely. "The last thing we need is masses of rogue Jedi running around. I think it's too dangerous right now to risk opening all of these Jedi to the influence of the Dark Side."  
  
At these words, Jacen shifted restlessly in his chair. Luke looked at him with a rueful smile. "Jacen, you could always explain these things better than I. Please, go ahead."  
  
Jacen looked distinctly uncomfortable, with his hands gripping the armrests of his chair and his jaw clenched tightly. He spoke reluctantly, forcing the words out of his mouth, "No, I can't. I'm sorry, I-I don't have anything to say."  
  
Confused, Luke said, "Jacen, please feel free to speak up. These meetings are important, but they're very informal. I would like to hear what you think, and I know everyone values your insight." He smiled encouragingly, "Come on, I need the help anyway."  
  
Jacen closed his eyes and drew a breath. He opened them again and a murmur of disbelief rolled through the conference room as he said, "I'm sorry Uncle Luke, truly, but I disagree with you. Completely."  
  
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End file.
